The Switch
by EllieF
Summary: Mello wakes up in Near's body, and vice versa. Rating is mostly for everyone's potty mouths and partly for mild yaoi. There's a dash of Harry Potter in here, though no HP characters. It turned out a lot less utterly cracky than I expected.


**Notes: **Take-a-cliche-and-run-with-it story. :-) It sprang from a discussion on LJ (thanks are due to belgatherial there for proofing).

**The Switch**

The _first_ thing he had to do was look, _obviously_.

Actually, the very first thing he had to do was see... himself, for lack of a better term, in the mirror, freak the fuck out, pinch himself, try _really_ hard to wake up, and generally do all the things one might do if one woke up in the wrong body.

_Then_ he looked.

"_Damn_, Near," Mello said, letting the waistband snap back. "Huh. Well, you do have freakishly big hands."

His—for lack of a better term—reflection stared out of the mirror at him, white hair standing up in curlicues. But the expression of mingled horror and interest was entirely un-Near-like. And he was blushing. "Wait," Mello said. "Why am _I_ embarrassed?" He grinned, slowly.

* * *

Near was too blindsided by disbelief to do anything but climb back into bed, stick his head under the pillow, and hope the world would be sane again the next time he got up.

* * *

Mello considered taking a shower, but decided to stay in front of the mirror. When would he ever have another chance to see Near like _this_?

* * *

Near kept his head under the pillow for a while, but failed to either fall asleep or wake up, and it was almost time for class. He squeezed his eyes shut, scooted out of bed inch by inch, and felt his way to the small mirror on the dresser.

He didn't _feel_ normal again, but surely when he opened his eyes...

They were still green. He was still Mello.

At least no one would be shocked if Mello skipped class.

That raised a disturbing question: if he was Mello, was Mello him?

* * *

Someone knocked on the door as Mello was trying to find a shirt that wouldn't fall off Near's skinny shoulders.

_Aw, fuck._ "I'm sick, go away!" he shouted, trying to sound congested.

"It's me," said his own voice.

_Aw, extra fuck._ He opened the door a sliver. "Near?"

And _his_ face stared down at him, looking dumbstruck in a way Mello hoped to hell _he_ never had.

"Yeah. You're Near. Get in here." He grabbed a baggy shirtsleeve and hauled him into the room. "Did anyone see you?"

"No. It's only Linda's room between us, and no one was around."

Mello decided to make do with the shirt in his hands, and pulled it on. "Any brilliant theories on how this happened?"

Near shook his head. "I find I can't get past the impossibility."

Mello hadn't realized how much of his carefree acceptance was based on a certainty that Near would know what to do. "I kinda hoped you'd arrive with an answer."

Near just gaped at him.

"We'll have to pretend to be each other 'til we get this sorted out. They'd assume it's my fault." He'd been thinking about this. He got blamed for _everything_, and as much as he hated it, this would get fixed a lot faster if he and Near worked together.

Near sat down on the bed in his usual pose. "I'm not certain I can pretend to be you."

"How hard can it be? Don't do that, for starters."

Near sighed, and put his leg down. "Mello, think about it. I couldn't kick a goal in football if I had to, and I think you would be bored out of your mind working a puzzle. We don't like the same things. We don't eat the same things. And your vocabulary is... you know."

"Yeah, you're gonna have to swear."

"I'll do it wrong."

"How can you do it _wrong_? Go on. Try."

"Damn it," Near whispered.

"Jesus _fuck_, you _are_ doing it wrong. Get pissed off!"

"But that's not something I do."

"You're me and I'm you. That's idiotic, right? _Get pissed off_."

Near frowned. "_Damn_ it."

"Eh, better. My other habits should be easier." He folded his arms and studied Near, who was, _obviously_, Near, despite sitting somewhat like a normal person. "You have to, I don't know. _Own_ it more than that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sit up straight. Don't act like you don't want anyone looking at you."

"I _don't_ want anyone looking at me," Near said, doing a pretty good job at being petulant.

"You're me. They're going to." He put his hand on Near's back and gave him a push to fix his posture.

"Hey!"

"You're making me look bad! Maybe it's the getup. I look terrible in white, but you look OK in black. That's unfair."

Near tilted his head consideringly. "No, I look weird."

"It's called fashion sense. Crap, I'm going to be stuck in your clothes. We'd better swap, though. Otherwise it'd be insanely suspicious, and these don't fit you anyway. You're tiny." He couldn't resist adding, "_Almost_ everywhere."

"Oh, _God_, you _would_ have." Near hid his face in his hands, and Mello suddenly felt bad. 

"Hey," he said. "Hey, Near, c'mon. You can check me out if you like."

Near made a muffled noise that sounded a lot like a whimper.

"Don't you dare cry! You'll make me all blotchy!"

"I'm not crying; I'm trying to pretend this isn't happening!"

"Yeah." Mello sat down next to him. "Right there with you." He reached over and patted Near's shoulder. "But, hey, our combined I.Q. is something like four hundred. We can sort it out."

"We need to be pragmatic," Near said, still muffled. "Treat it like a very, very, _very_ weird case to solve."

"That's the spirit."

Near lifted his head. "How are you taking up so much space?"

Mello sighed, and unsprawled, tucking his knees up, hunching his shoulders. "Better?"

"Yes." Near frowned thoughtfully, then spread his legs a bit wider and leaned his elbows on them. "This?"

"Not bad. Man, I'm starving. What do you eat, anyway?"

"I have a really picky stomach. I usually go down and get oatmeal in the morning. Don't stuff me full of chocolate, please. It'll make me— you— _whichever_— sick."

"Fine, but _you'll_ have to eat chocolate."

"I don't like it."

"Fuckin' hell, one of us is getting chocolate! And no Hershey's. Godiva _at least_. Or you'll give me a headache."

"All right, I'll eat some. For your part, would you please not...do _that_ again?"

Mello couldn't help it; he cracked up.

"_What_," Near said.

"I'd bet money that's the most prudish I've _ever_ looked."

They swapped clothes, Near doing most of the changing with his eyes tightly shut, though he did open them long enough to give Mello grief about his painted toenails.

"I think I have time to feed you," Mello said. "My backpack's over there. And remember: _own it_."

* * *

Most of their classes were together, which was good, except that Mello kicked Near's chair every time he started to pull his knee up. His feet were freezing. He turned around.

Did he always look that dotty, or was Mello overacting?

"Stop that," Near said under his breath.

Mello made his eyes wide and pointed to his chest.

"Yes. You." He put on his best version of Mello's glare.

"Mello, eyes to the front, please," Mrs. Hamilton called.

"Yes, ma'am," Near said, as sarcastically as he dared. He stuck his tongue out at Mello, spun back around, and slouched with intent.

Being Mello got easier as the day went on and Near became more annoyed with normality failing to reassert itself, and with the unfair persecution. A lot of Mello's reputation was well-deserved, but how could Mr. Taylor possibly blame him for the whispering in the very back of the room? By the time classes let out, Near barely had to fake a bad attitude.

Mello bumped into him as they left the classroom, and hissed, "Outside, go outside."

"You," Near shot back. "Library."

Mello groaned, and Near didn't have to fake his laugh at all.

He raided Mello's chocolate stash before heading out. Some kids were playing in the yard, but none of them noticed as he sat down on the steps and had to readjust his position a couple of times to get it right.

He unwrapped the foil, thought about the hundreds of times he'd seen Mello do this, and snapped off a big piece. It made a satisfying crunch, and tasted pretty good. It was Lindt, after all; he wanted to at least try to be nice to Mello's body. He broke off another bite and let it melt on his tongue. He could definitely see how Mello had gotten addicted. Maybe these taste buds were hardwired that way.

The boy called Peter came running over, carrying a big red ball. "There you are, Mello! We need you, come on!"

Near knew how kickball worked in _theory_, but theory was safe. Manic small geniuses booting projectiles were scary. Still, Mello always played, and if he was stuck inside, doing his best with his half of their problem, Near could hardly do less.

"OK," he said. "One damn second." He popped the last bit of chocolate in his mouth, crumpled up the wrapper, and tossed it toward the garbage can. It went in.

_All right, I'm Mello, and Mello's good at this. Muscle memory, muscle memory._

Ophie, who was Mello's age and kind of scary, was pitching for the other team. _I'm more coordinated now_, Near told himself. _I've seen proof of that already. I don't have to be nervous._

He kicked, actually connected, and forgot to run for a split second, watching the ball sail past the outfielders. His team cheered as he went around the bases, and, wow, Mello really was fast. 

They all seemed to look to Mello for coaching, even the kids who were older than he was. Near studied the other team for weaknesses. "OK, Sascha," he told her when she was up. "Royce can't cover third. Try to kick it over there."

"Sure thing, M!"

Near thought he could get used to this.

* * *

Being Near was a pain in the ass. Mello got out of breath going up two flights of stairs, his feet felt like they were in tiny straitjackets, and he was probably going to bite right through his tongue trying not to curse. Then again, Miss Darrow had welcomed him to the library like a long-lost friend, and had slipped him a caramel.

He started to sprawl in his usual seat in the common room, remembered just in time, and found a place to curl up on the floor instead. Near was right; he'd go cross-eyed with boredom if he tried to do a puzzle. Luckily, no one would comment on Near doing homework.

Mello started on the calculus problem sets. Oh. Someone might notice if Near was only doing one thing. He opened the psychology textbook too, turned it so he could theoretically see both, and got a toy robot from his bag, one he could flip about without watching. Was that overkill? Nah, he decided. If anything, it wasn't enough.

To his surprise, he kind of got into a zone with the math, and burned through the assignment super-fast. No one bothered him with stupid shit, or tried to distract him or make him go outside. Or _talked_ to him, but that was OK for now.

* * *

After kickball, Near went to the library to try to find any clues at all about fixing things. He smiled at Miss Darrow, but she set her book aside and gave him the evil eye.

_Mello, can't you make nice with _any_ adults?_

Near sat at the terminal and did his search as quickly as possible, trying to project good intentions and studiousness. The kids loved Mello, but the teachers emphatically did not. Near had always assumed he really did act up, but today had shown him that it wasn't as often as it seemed.

* * *

"Hey, Near!"

Mello looked around to see Sascha beaming at him. Weird. He hadn't ever noticed them getting on particularly well.

"Hello," he said. "How was the game?"

"We kicked arse today! Mello was really with it on strategy."

Mello kept his face blank, but it wasn't easy. He just _would_ have to sit here and listen to this while he couldn't _hurt _either of the pieces Near was split into. "Yes," he said slowly. "He is good at that sort of thing."

"Yep! Anyway, I thought I'd find you here" Sascha said, reaching into her bag. "Q and I went into town yesterday, and I, um, got you this." She handed over a booklet titled Extra Hard Sudoku. "It's probably still too easy, but worth a try, huh? Oh, and this." She gave him a Sky Bar too.

_Damn, people sure like to feed Near._ "Thank you," Mello said.

"No problem! I'd better go do my homework. See you later, N!"

"Bye, Sascha."

Huh. People wanted to be nice to Near, but he made them nervous. Then again, Sascha and Quentin weren't supposed to go out alone, but she hadn't tried to hide it, so he wasn't a total goody two-shoes.

If he was going to be stuck like this, the little-and-cute angle was too good _not_ to milk the hell out of. Mello silently berated himself for not thinking of it before. It would be _fun_.

* * *

Near skipped dinner, since he'd never seen Mello in the dining hall, and he still felt full. Did the boy eat _nothing_ but chocolate? At least it seemed like his stomach could handle it. He went to Mello's room and flipped through one of the books he'd taken out.

Mello came by a little after suppertime, carrying a mecha. "Look, I'm _so _you," he said, giving his hair a twirl.

"Uh-huh, cute."

"Ooh, surliness. You're so me!"

"May I have my robot?"

"OK. Can I have a piece of chocolate?"

"All right. One."

Mello handed it over and followed him in, and Near shut the door.

"I know a lot more about you than I thought," Mello said. He got a piece of candy from the drawer and stretched out on the bed with every appearance of relief.

"I'm having a similar experience," Near said, putting various pieces of the toy back in the right places.

"I mean, it was hard at first, but I think I'm getting the hang of it. Not that I want to be you forever, but—"

"You're no longer wracked with abject horror at the thought?"

"Horror, but not abject," Mello said, and winked.

"I tried to do some research," Near said, "but I wasn't sure where to even start. This is rather unprecedented. There are some folklore stories about people being turned into animals, but that's not helpful."

"Those all end with a kiss," Mello said, a bit indistinctly, due to his having filched a second square of Ghirardelli.

"Those are allegorical. I'm not going to kiss you."

"I'm just sayin'."

"And this is clearly not just in our heads," Near went on, deciding to pretend that exchange hadn't happened, "so psychiatry isn't going to help us. But I can hardly stand to read the books on paranormal phenomena. They're so absurd."

"I can take those," Mello said.

"Here they are," Near said, nodding at the stack.

"Jeez." Mello heaved a sigh. "Your idea of fun is hiding in your room and reading, isn't it?"

"That's not fair. I have a really neat model city I was going to assemble."

Mello wrinkled his nose. "For real?"

"I made a spaceship for you."

"You have a me?" Mello said, and laughed. "Oh, Christ. Understatement of the year."

"I made models of all of us to fit in the domes and ships and stuff. It's futuristic in that kind of 1960s way. You know, like the Jetsons?" He looked down, half afraid Mello would make fun of him. "But I think it's cool."

"That _does_ sound cool. Show me where the pieces are?"

* * *

Near went back to the library after showing Mello the city, even though he didn't expect to find anything useful. It was the only way to make the back of his mind quit saying _Fix it fix it fix it fix it._ This body was obviously hardwired for anxiety too.

Or else Mello was rubbing off on him by osmosis.

Near had another chance to appreciate how quickly Mello could move as he launched himself toward the physiology books. 

He'd looked through most of those with no success, and was reaching for a book on medical mysteries when someone grabbed him by the shoulders. "Hey," Matt said.

Near started violently, and Matt took a step back. "Dude, what?"

"You startled me. What the... fuck?"

Matt gave him what might have been a suspicious look. How did Mello tell anything through those goggles? "You all right?"

"Yeah. I just have a lot of work."

"Aww. I have a new game. It's _Friday_. Take a break."

Mello did all his work, well enough to make Near nervous sometimes, _and_ he got to have a social life? Near fought an unaccustomed pang of jealousy._ Wait. I can borrow his social life, at least for a little while._ "I guess I could."

"OK," Matt said, when they got to his room. "This is really cool. You roll around and pick up all the stuff you can in a big ball. Then you fling it into the sky! You go first, then we can battle."

"Dancing giraffes?" Near said, eyeing the opening sequence dubiously. The music was insanely catchy, though. And video games were like moving puzzles, anyway. Once Near got the hang of the controls, he did pretty well.

Matt smoked, and laughed when Near swung the controller around to try to make the little green guy go where he wanted, and gazed at him in an unsettling manner.

"Have you been practicing on the sly? You're usually calling that thing a son of a bitch by now."

"Huh?" Near said. "Once you grasp the relational physics, it's easy."

Matt narrowed his eyes. "M?"

Near looked back and forth between him and the screen. "Hmm?"

"Quit playing hard to get." He leaned over and kissed him, and Near faked it as best he could, but there was _tongue_, and _hands_ in _places_, and this was really not the first kiss he had imagined, not that he _had_ imagined it—

Matt pulled away. "You are _not_ Mello." He pushed the goggles up onto his forehead and _stared_, and Near automatically reached for his hair.

"Oh. My. Shit," Matt said. "_Wow_, this is weird."

It was rather difficult, in a taller body, to curl up as tightly as he wanted to. Then again, hunching into nothing would have been impossible.

"I don't suppose you wanna try that again?" Matt said, grinning crookedly.

"Um."

"I feel bad for not doing it properly."

"Won't Mello get angry?"

"Call it an experiment. To find out how much is you and how much is him."

"That's faulty reasoning. I mean, surely you've kissed Mello properly dozens of—"

"Gah!" Matt said, and kissed him again.

He did it much more gently this time, giving Near a chance to figure it out for himself, and it was actually kind of... nice. Near wondered if he would forever associate the taste of cigarettes with weirdness and daring.

"I'm pretty sure it's all me in here," he said when Matt moved back.

"Yeah. Mello would've groped me by now."

"Why aren't you more incredulous?"

Matt laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, man, you are so clearly Near. Maybe it's 'cause I deduced it. If one of you came to me like 'Help, I'm the other one!' or whatever, I don't think I'd buy it. Unless Mello and I had a code word or something. That would be awesome."

* * *

Mello gazed in awe at the hundreds of pieces of the city. Near would probably have put it all together in one night, but he decided not to try.

The models of all the kids were pretty awesome. There was even an L, a Mr. Roger, and a Mr. Wammy. Mello picked up the version of himself. It was pretty small for detail work, but Near had painted in black gloves. The Matt model had a little raised rectangle on its upper arm, like a cigarette pack rolled up in the sleeve. Sascha's corkscrew curls looked almost like the real thing. There were several spaceships obviously intended for specific people to fit in. L's was like a streamlined limo, black and silver, with his fancy letter as a very small hood ornament. The red-and-black ship with yellow and orange lines, like a hint of flames, had to be Mello's. He opened the back, and saw that there was a tiny stack of rectangles in the cargo hold, painted the exact green of Scharffen Berger mocha wrappers. 

"Holy crap, Near," he breathed. "You're amazing."

But seeing all this made him feel a strange tightness in his throat, which got even worse when he found the Near figure.

He held it up. "Dude. You do _not_ look that gormless." It was sad, really, bland and empty-eyed. Mello gave it a shake, and addressed it directly, 'cause, hell, if he was going to be Near, he might as well go all the way with it. "You dork. You have naturally crazy-cool hair. Girls can't be nice enough to you. And you made all of us look so much better than you. Self-esteem issues, much?"

The only thing to do was fix it.

* * *

Near and Matt had brainstormed for a little while about possible solutions, but Matt had been too amused to come up with much. He'd called it a real-life science fiction story. He was so good-natured that Near had ended up laughing about it too.

At least tomorrow was Saturday, and he'd be able to devote the whole day to finding an answer. He hunted around Mello's room for a little while, annoyed with himself for not thinking of inspecting the scene of the crime sooner. 

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. _Everything_ was black. Black pajamas, black sheets, that silly black toenail polish. Near sat on the bed and looked in the mirror. He had been too agitated to truly observe himself until now.

It made sense to wear black if you had naturally perfect skin and honey-blond hair. The contrast made everything more striking. Mello's hair was thicker than his own, and always fell perfectly back into place. Near spread his fingers, ran them through it experimentally, and tried out a smile.

His smile on Mello's face was just wrong. There had to be a way to look more convincing.

_I'm Mello,_ he thought. _I'm really good-looking, and everyone likes me._

Not working, not working.

_Ha ha, I'm secretly Near._

_That_ worked.

He switched off the bedside lamp and flung himself backward, dramatically, Mello-style, onto the pillows. He still felt like he didn't quite _fit_, like he was gangly and too big. He held up his arms. Those wrists were tiny, like birds' bones, even though Mello was very strong. Near made a fist and felt his biceps. Apparently the twenty or so pounds Mello had on him was all muscle.

Muscle, and height. His legs were really long. Near stretched, and his toes brushed the footboard.

Mello's hips were a bit wider than his, but still really skinny. Near set his hands on them and found the sharp bones with his thumbs. The skin was surprisingly soft.

OK, that was bizarre. Like touching himself and Mello at the same time, and feeling it all.

Bizarre, but not in a bad way. And he did have permission.

* * *

Near slept surprisingly well, and woke up in as good a mood as could be expected. Mello's body needed physical exertion, he guessed. He felt a little embarrassed, remembering the night before, but he told himself that turnabout was fair play.

Except that Near didn't have anyone who'd sneak up behind him in the library or kiss him while he was trying to play a game.

"Hell," he said, and went to his own room to find Mello.

"I ought to tell you something," he said when Mello opened the door, bleary and very mussed. "Let me in."

"Mmph," Mello said, and stood aside, rubbing his eyes.

Near went to the bed and sat looking down at his hands. "Matt kissed... us, I guess."

"Holy shit," Mello said, instantly alert. "I am _always_ irresistible."

"You're not mad?"

"I do sometimes wonder how people can stand how hot I am. Apparently they can't. Course, I know it's _you_ in there."

"That didn't stop you— You know."

"Like I'd pass up that chance! Even _you'd_ be tempted."

Near couldn't quite hide his wince.

"Ohhh." Mello sat next to him, gleeful. "You did after all! Bet you had the lights off."

Near nodded. "I imagine you didn't."

"Are you kidding?"

"You... wanted to..." He felt his face heat up. "Was it weird for you too?"

"Yeah. You're awfully pretty when you're turned on, but—"

"Mello, you're really embarrassing me." He looked down, taking advantage of that curtain of hair to hide behind.

"I just meant... I think I'd like it better if it was _you_ in here, and _me_ in there."

"Oh." He looked over, and it _was_ Mello, no matter what he looked like, and Near closed his eyes and bent down, and Mello met him halfway. Near kissed him softly at first because that was what he liked, then sucked on his lower lip because Matt had done that, so it was what Mello liked. Then he remembered that he'd never actually kissed anyone with his own mouth, and it was all very confusing until he let it go and just kissed _Mello_.

"Wow," Mello said. "_That_ was good." He closed his eyes again, reached up, and pushed the hair back from Near's face. "Still weird, though. Oh! I made something for you."

"You did?"

"Yeah!" Mello hopped up and rummaged in the jumble of the half-assembled city. "Aha!" He held up the red spaceship Near had designed for him. "Look."

Near took it and peered in. The Mello doll was sitting in the driver's seat, and next to it... "That's not the one I made."

"Look at it, look at it."

Near laughed; he'd never seen Mello act like this. He took the white figure from the co-pilot's seat. Mello had made the hair look soft instead of lumpy, with one little curl standing up. He'd made the face more like the other figures', with a half-smile instead of an openmouthed stare, and had painted the eyes gray, with a line of black around the outside.

Mello muffled a giggle. "Look at the feet!"

They were bare, with tiny dots of black nail polish.

"Mello..." Near began, but then was laughing too hard to go on.

"It took forever," Mello said when they both sobered up. "I'm not really good with clay or paint or that shit."

"It's..." Near didn't know what to say. "Thank you."

* * *

They divvied up areas of research, and Mello started for the library. As soon as he came out into the hall, Linda's door opened, and she darted out.

"Near, I was waiting for you to wake up! Please help me! I think I did something I shouldn't have. I mean, I know I shouldn't have, and I know I did _something_, but I don't know what! I'm close enough to a Squib that they let me stay here, but I wanted to try, and—"

"Speak English, woman!" Mello snapped.

"Oh," Linda said, blinking. "You're Mello. That makes things easier. At least I know what I did now!"

"_You_ did this?"

"I'm sorry! I was just trying to swap the colors in some paintings. I don't know how it went wrong."

"Stop talking, please. Let's go get the rest of me." He tugged her by the arm back to Near's room.

"Look what my research turned up," he said, pulling Linda in behind him.

"Oh my God, you're really Near, aren't you?" Linda said, staring at him.

"How do you know? _What_ do you know?"

"That's what we're gonna find out," Mello said. "Now. What _exactly_ did you do?"

Linda looked back and forth between them for a moment, then shook her head hard enough to make her pigtails wilt. "I... uh. I swapped your bodies with a spell and I'm so so sorry!"

"Please try to keep my eyes _in_ my head," Mello said to Near.

"Magic is real?" Near said. "And I didn't know?"

"There are practically whole industries devoted to keeping it a secret," Linda said.

"Put us back, and our lips are sealed. Right, Near?"

"I guess. It's the least we can do."

"My penfriend at Hogwarts gave me this cheat sheet, and I screwed it up," Linda said. "I wasn't sure I'd even done a spell, but I owled her and she told me how to find out."

"Owled?" Near said.

"It's a wizard thing. Oh, I shouldn't tell you!"

"I think that's the least of your worries," Mello said.

"You are _scary_ like this," Linda told him. "You're like _meanness_ in a wrapper of cute."

"Linda," Mello said. "_Fix us_."

"OK, OK. I memorized the words already." She pulled a stick from her pocket and took a deep breath. "Here goes. Finite Incantatem!"

Nothing happened.

"Is that an honest-to-fuck magic wand?" Mello said.

"Is it supposed to be instantaneous?" Near said.

"Yes," Linda said miserably. "And yes. Oh, wait. You guys were in your rooms, and I was in mine, so let's try it that way."

So Mello went to his room, and Near went to his. He heard, faintly, Linda calling "Ready!"

Then he felt tingly and dizzy and sat down in a hurry. When his head cleared, he put his hands to his face. It _felt_ like his. He stumbled over to the mirror. "Thank you, God, thank you, thank you. OK, thank you, Linda, too."

He flung the door open. Near and Linda were both looking out too.

"Yes!" Linda said.

Mello pointed at Linda. "Don't ever do that again." He pointed to Near. "I want my clothes back."

"They'll probably snap my wand in half for this," Linda said, sniffling.

"We'll put in a good word for you if we can," Near said.

Mello snorted.

"She didn't mean any harm, and she _did_ fix us."

"Feh, _all right_."

"Come on in," Near told Mello. "You're right that we still don't want anyone seeing us in the wrong clothes."

They swapped back. Near didn't close his eyes this time, but he did duck his head and blush a lot.

"I suppose it wasn't so bad," Mello said.

"Now that it's over, no. It wasn't _so_ bad."

"Will you try to be social, at least sometimes?"

"I could try. Will you try to be _still_ sometimes?"

Mello laughed. "I can try." He started to reach for his hair, caught himself, and laughed again. "So. Now that you're back in there, I... There's some faces I wouldn't mind seeing again."

Near thought for a moment. "It is kind of strange that _I've_ kissed people, and so has my mouth, but not together."

Mello grinned. "Let's fix that."


End file.
